


build you up

by nevermordor



Category: One Piece
Genre: Bonding, Father Figures, Gen, Mentorship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermordor/pseuds/nevermordor
Summary: “Are you working on something cool today, Franky?” Chopper asks.“Hell yeah. A whole bunch of stuff. Gonna need an extra pair of hands.”“I can help!” Luffy blurts out eagerly.Franky strikes a pose. “You’re the best, captain. But!” He swivels and Usopp realizes, with a pleasant jolt, that Franky’s pointing at him. “I’ma need the sharpest eyes on board for what I have planned. You’re up, bro.”“Me?” Usopp asks, despite the finger already telling him as much.--Usopp and Franky build together.
Relationships: Franky & Usopp (One Piece)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 105





	build you up

**Author's Note:**

> i've actually wanted to write this fic ever since i first read through one piece. took a little time, but it's nice to finally see it come together.

Sunny is a big girl — a lot bigger than Merry was. She’s full of long hallways and hidden rooms they keep discovering days later, whenever Luffy slams open another door with a delighted whoop. And yet somehow, there still isn’t quite enough space for him to spread out and work. The deck’s strewn with debris from lawn games the other night. Robin’s up in the library. Zoro’s claimed the crow’s nest. Nami’s sunbathing at the stern and has already complained twice about the eggy smell of his chemistry set, so Usopp gathers up his equipment, grabs his bag and heads below deck.

He’d been planning on tucking himself away, to work for a bit without being interrupted or getting in anyone’s way. As it turns out, though, the bulkhead’s been claimed too, which Usopp discovers when he reaches the bottom of the stairs and finds himself standing in the middle of a cluttered workshop.

Franky, huddled over his desk in the corner, glances up.

“Sorry,” Usopp says. “Thought no one was down here.”

“Need something?”

“I was just trying to find a space where I could paint. But it’s okay, I’ll try—”

“You can hang here,” Franky says shortly.

“I wouldn’t wanna—”

“It’s fine. Make some room for yourself.”

“Oh, I can’t—” But Franky’s already bent back over his work again, sketching furiously.

For a moment, Usopp nearly turns around and leaves anyway, just because Franky seems so annoyed about it. But that would still leave him without a place to work, and it’s been a while since they had a slow moment of sailing and there are a ton of projects that have been stuck in the back of his brain ever since Jaya. And after all: Franky did invite Usopp to stay. He strikes Usopp as a little too blunt to lie about these kinds of things.

The workshop is small and cramped compared to the rest of Sunny. Crates overflow with pipes and siding and various supplies. The sole bench is heaped with tools and a row of cups, mysteriously gone missing from the kitchen days ago, now filled to the brim with various screws and bolts. There isn’t much room at all but Usopp gently shifts aside a stack of engineering manuals and sits down in the corner farthest from Franky’s desk. “Is here okay?” he asks.

Franky doesn’t seem to have heard him. He doesn’t look up again, even when Usopp accidentally drops his hammer while unpacking his tools, or when his tins of paint squeak as he twists the lids off. The air down here is hazy with the lingering smell of butane and grease, overpowering the smell of his chemistry set. Usopp relaxes a little more. He dips his brush into his paint and sets to work, losing himself in the satisfying glide of the brush, the pinprick details with the fine tip.

It takes him a while to notice the self-conscious prickle along the back of his neck that tells him he’s being watched. Usopp looks up. Franky is staring at him again.

“Hey,” Usopp begins nervously.

“Hey,” Franky says and grins. “Sorry ‘bout earlier. Didn’t mean to ignore you, just really, really needed to get some stuff out of my brain before I forgot.” His gaze shifts to the tins of paint and Usopp’s scattered collection of tools. The self-conscious prickly feeling sharpens. “You workin’ on something too?”

“Um.” Usopp hesitates. The last time Franky got a close look at his handiwork, he’d wanted to throw it in the trash. “It’s just an idea I had.” 

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“It’s really nothing.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Well,” Usopp says slowly. “A lot of people are scared of bugs, right? So I was thinking, what if I could make a giant pellet to shoot at people that was filled with bugs? It wouldn’t be a powerful attack or anything, but half of the battle is psychological after all…” Usopp trails off, as Franky lumbers to his feet and begins inspecting the shelving next to his desk.

Usopp’s sort of used to this. His inventions are obviously incredible, and fun to work on, but he’s launched into presentations before, only to look up and find Sanji or Nami’s eyes glazing over — or, in Zoro’s case, fast asleep and drooling slightly. It’s fine.

“Why’d you stop?” Franky asks.

“Huh?”

“You stopped explaining. You didn’t finish.”

“Oh. I thought… You just seemed…”

“Nah,” Franky says, swinging his arms back and forth. “Just gotta move when I’m listenin’. Hard to sit still, plus I hadta check the shelving real quick ‘cause it was lookin’ funny. I listen better while I’m doin’ other stuff. That’s my brain.” Franky adjusts the last shelf. “But where are you gonna get the bugs from? Cuz we’re in the middle of the ocean and I don’t think Cook-bro has got too many crawlin’ around that kitchen of his.”

“I’m gonna make fake bugs. I don’t wanna hurt real ones. Actually what I did was create a jelly mold. I boiled down kitchen scraps into gelatin and then carved them to look like cockroaches. Once the molds harden up, I’m gonna paint them to look more realistic, and then figure out a latch system for the pellet so that it’ll open on impact. I’m already halfway through, see?” Usopp holds up the cockroach he’s been working on.

Franky comes closer, squinting over the top of his sunglasses. “Shit. That ain’t half-bad. But you know what would be good? Is if you could make it so that they actually moved.”

“Exactly,” Usopp says, snapping his fingers. “The more convincing the lie, the better the attack. I’ve actually been brainstorming how to do it.”

Franky sits down on the floor next to him. He picks up another fake cockroach, working it between his fingers. “So how would you do it?”

Usopp bites his lip. “It’s…kind of a long explanation.”

“Tell me.”

“Well.” Usopp grabs his notebook, flipping to the right diagram. “So, I’ve thought about this a _lot._ You know wind-up toys?”

It’s a genuine surprise when the intercom crackles, some time later. “You guys interested in eating dinner at all, or are you just gonna sit down there and starve?” Sanji grumbles.

“It’s dinnertime?”

“Yes.” The intercom crackles off.

Usopp looks down at his notebook, and is even more surprised to find himself looking down at a prototype sketch of Kabuto. They’re long past his Cockroach Star, nearly halfway through his notebook. “I’ve been talking for so long.”

“Yeah,” Franky says. “It was good shit.”

“Thanks.” Usopp begins hurriedly packing up his paints and the scattered contents of his toolbox. “Thanks,” he says again, “for letting me hang here today.”

Franky offers him a hand up. “You really gotta get your own space to work,” he remarks.

“Right,” Usopp says sheepishly. As fun as their conversation was, this is still ultimately Franky’s workshop. It’s hard enough to stake out personal space on a ship. It was nice of him to let Usopp stay as long as he did.

Tomorrow, Usopp decides, he’ll try working in the aquarium bar.  
  
  
  
  
He’s woken the following morning by the high-pitched whine of a power saw.

“I swear, I’m going to kill him,” Sanji says as Usopp stumbles into the kitchen.

“So you’ve mentioned,” Robin murmurs, turning another page in her book.

Usopp gropes blearily for the pitcher of orange juice. “Is that Franky?”

Luffy’s vibrating in his seat. “I bet whatever he’s working on is _awesome_.”

“It better be awesome, or I’m gonna kick that shitty cyborg into the ocean.”

The power saw cuts off abruptly. A minute later the kitchen door slams open and Franky moonwalks in, heading toward the fridge.

“Having a good morning?” Sanji asks sourly.

“A suuuuuuuper morning, and I’m only just gettin’ started. Throw a cola smoothie in that blender, bro, so we can keep this party goin’.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you working on something cool today, Franky?” Chopper asks.

“Hell yeah. A whole bunch of stuff. Gonna need an extra pair of hands.”

“I can help!” Luffy blurts out eagerly.

Franky strikes a pose. “You’re the best, captain. But!” He swivels and Usopp realizes, with a pleasant jolt, that Franky’s pointing at him. “I’ma need the sharpest eyes on board for what I have planned. You’re up, bro.”

“Me?” Usopp asks, despite the finger already telling him as much.

“Let’s go, time’s a wastin’.” And before Usopp can reply, Franky’s already grabbing his plate and his glass of juice and is out the door again. Usopp hurries after him, tripping on his shoelaces as he stumbles across the deck and back down the stairs into the bulkhead. “We got all kinds of good stuff to do today,” Franky’s saying. “Hope you got your game face on.”

“It’s not that I’m saying no,” Usopp begins. “But…I thought you said you wanted to work alone.”

Franky frowns. “When the hell did I say that?”

“Yesterday. You said that I should get my own space to work.”

“Exactly. With all those ideas bouncin’ around in your head, you really oughta.”

“I’m confused,” Usopp admits.

They’ve reached the bottom of the stairs but instead of veering left into his workshop, Franky turns right. “Couldn’t sleep last night,” Franky explains. “Kept thinkin’ about you, and about your crazy-ass weapons, and then I got a vision in my head and got suuuuper pumped, so I been workin’ on it. Whaddya think?”

Last night, this side of the bulkhead was just cluttered storage space. This morning, the crates of supplies and barrels of water and scrap are gone. In their place sits a large desk sits against one wall, stacked with sketching paper and empty jars. A set of bins sits against another wall. There’s a work bench, its shelves already packed with tools, and in the far corner, a massive bulletin board studded with tacks.

Usopp stares, astonished.

“You can throw all your shit in there,” Franky says, gesturing to the bins. “Loaded up that work bench with a buncha my spare tools, in case you need ‘em. You can use those jars for paintin’ and washin’ your brushes and stuff. Also put together that bulletin board for you. Should be big enough for you to work properly. Made the frame outta your girl.”

“My…girl?”

“Merry.” Franky pats the bulletin board, looking pleased with himself. “There were some bits of her still layin’ around my old workshop. And that idiot, Iceberg, had some spare pieces that I swiped. Been holdin’ onto it for a special occasion.”

Usopp touches the frame. The wood grain is familiar beneath his fingertips, from so many afternoons spent leaning against Merry’s side, his head tilted back to catch the sun, to watch her sails flare in the wind. Suddenly the “thank you” he was about to offer feels far too small and thin. His throat’s too tight to get the words out.

“Plus,” Franky says, shimmying back over to the door. “I’m right across the way, on the other side of the stairs. So’s we can shout at each other if we need an extra hand or something.”

Usopp looks around again. Franky did all this in a single night, all for him. A workshop of his very own.

“I might annoy you,” Usopp offers shyly, at last.

“Nah.” Franky claps his hands together, eager. “ _Now._ Let’s get to work.”  
  
  
  
  
They fall into a routine almost at once.

Every day, they’re up by nine. Sanji’s taken to making them breakfast wraps, since they’re easier to grab and go.

Mornings are for work, with brief breaks only for Franky to refuel and for Usopp to take a piss.

Lunch is always left at the bottom of the stairs, for whichever one of them finds it first.

In the afternoons, they work on the ship. Sometimes it’s after firefights, and they walk Sunny together from end to end, bottom to top, checking her for leaks, for weak points, for general maintenance. Other times it’s little things that Franky is always noticing and remembering, with his constant attention to detail. One day, it’s the fridge on the fritz. Another day, it’s squeaky door hinges. When Zoro starts benching more, there’s a brand new weight rack welded and ready for him. When the tops of the tangerine trees start getting too tall for Nami to reach, there’s a stepstool waiting for her in the grove that same afternoon.

Usopp’s always the one that has to remind Franky to eat. At dinner, they sit at the table and talk about their latest projects, the weapons they’re developing. Luffy and Chopper listen raptly. Everyone else scrapes their forks back and forth across their plates, but it doesn’t even bother Usopp anymore, not as much as it used to, not when Franky’s enthusiasm is big and loud and utterly overwhelming.

Franky’s the one that always has to remind Usopp to go to bed. Long after the little clock that Franky fixed up for him has chimed, and Usopp’s starting to nod off at his desk, there’s a fist to thump him on the shoulder, a hand pulling him gently from his chair.

At nearly every moment of the day, Franky’s there. Wild with creative energy to match Usopp’s own. Ready with a laugh for all of Usopp’s jokes, even the corny ones. Willing to listen when Usopp bursts into Franky’s workshop in a fit of inspiration. Or on the days when the creative juices aren’t flowing at all and nothing’s going right, letting Usopp sit along the edge of his desk and vent, asking all the right questions, until they talk him around to a solution.

Even on the days when Franky gets stuck on an idea. When he sits at his desk and works for hours, drawing and redrawing, skipping meals and barely talking. Even then, there’s always an open crate for Usopp to eat his lunch, or read, or daydream, or simply sit in silence, listening to the constant scratch of Franky’s pencil on paper.  
  
  
  
  
“You’re like crazy,” Franky says.

It’s a late night. At least half-past one in the morning, Usopp knows, because he can hear Zoro shuffling around on deck for his watch. His eyes ache and his hands hurt but his body’s thrumming with excitement, and he can’t stop just yet, not when he’s so, so close to being done with his Cockroach Star. He’s finished painting all the bugs, and the pellet’s nearly ready, but he still has dozens of wind up keys to screw onto his models, and then he needs to make sure that they move right.

So he can’t sleep. Not yet. But he does put his screwdriver down for a moment and turn around in his chair. “You think so?”

“Most definitely.” Franky’s sprawled across the secondhand couch they picked up for his workshop a few islands ago. He’s flipping through Usopp’s sketchbook again, the pages fluttering softly like wings. “This Climatact thing. The octopus shoes. You’re crazy.” Franky snaps the sketchbook closed. Abruptly he jumps to his feet and begins pacing rapidly around the workshop. “You’re crazy and I’m goin’ crazy over your genius.”

“Well,” Usopp says, trying and failing not to preen.

“I still can’t believe you came up with all of this by yourself. Makes me wanna work ten times harder, just to get on your level.

“ _Well,”_ Usopp says again, but he’s grinning so hard it hurts.

Franky stops short. He turns fast on his heel, looking at Usopp with sudden, thoughtful interest. “How come you’re a sniper?”

Usopp blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You’re smart. You’re creative. You’re good with your hands. You ain’t no shipwright yet but you could be with a little more time. You’re a kickass inventor. So how come you wanna be a sniper instead?”

“Oh,” Usopp says.

No one’s ever really asked him before. Luffy understands of course, they’ve talked about it once or twice and that was about it. The question’s caught him off guard and he feels weirdly flustered under Franky’s intense stare. “My dad’s a sniper,” Usopp says.

“Yeah? Where’s your dad?”

“He’s a pirate. He went out to sea when I was just a kid.”

Franky flops backwards onto the couch again. The overhead lamp swings back and forth, rocking with the waves. “My parents were pirates,” Franky says after a little while.

“Really? That’s awesome! My dad’s a great pirate and an even greater marksman. Luffy met him once when he was a kid. He sails with Red-Haired Shanks, one of the four Emperors.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“She died.”

Franky looks at him. Usopp looks down at his hands, picking at one of the thicker calluses on his palm. “Fixing stuff is just something I’ve always done. To help around the house. And for fun. And so I could fight better. And I’m good at it. And I like it. But I wanna be a great sniper too. I wanna be as good as my dad is someday.”

He can still feel the weight of Franky’s gaze on him. Usopp squirms, awkward. Maybe he sounded like an idiot. “Anyway,” Usopp says. “I gotta finish these cockroaches.”

“How many you got left?”

“’Bout fifty,” Usopp says, fighting a yawn.

“Gettin’ late.”

“Yeah. You don’t gotta stay up with me. You’ve been down here for hours, you’re probably tired.”

“Nah. My eyes don’t get tired no more.” Franky taps an eyeball. “Hard cut glass.”

“You’re so weird,” Usopp says. This time, his laugh gets fully lost in a yawn.

“Go to bed already, bro.”

“I can keep going for a little longer.”

“At least take a break. Let me have a crack at ‘em.”

“I’ll supervise.”

“All right,” Franky concedes. Usopp brings over the boxes of fake cockroaches and wind up keys. One of Franky’s fingers rotates, transforming into a screwdriver. Usopp sits down next to him on the couch, leaning his head against Franky’s shoulder to get a better view, as Franky works the screws one at a time. Franky doesn’t shrug him off so Usopp stays there, until his vision starts to go blurry at the edges. His eyes slide closed and Usopp listens to the quiet creak of Sunny all around them, and the soft hum of the fridge in Franky’s stomach.  
  
  
  
  
There’s sunlight in his eyes, and the pillow under his cheek is wet with drool.

Usopp sits up fast. He’s in his bunk, the blankets tucked in around him. He’s still in his clothes from last night, his pajamas folded up neatly at the bottom of his bed. The men’s quarters are empty. Sunlight speckles his comforter.

He overslept. Franky will have started without him.

Usopp flings himself sideways out of bed.

When he stumbles out onto the deck, the sun is already midway in the sky. Usopp’s heart sinks hard and fast. He’s heading for the stairs down into the bulkhead but a sharp whistle cuts through the still morning air.

“Yo,” Franky calls from the stern. His wrist is popped open, an oil cloth at his feet, as he loads rounds of bullets into his machine gun.

“Hey,” Usopp starts. “Sorry. I’m late but I’m here. So we can just—”

“No worries. Not workin’ downstairs today. Needed to clean my guns. And I wanted to test out the new bullets I been developin’. Thought we could shoot together. Been wantin’ to go tech vs. tech with you a while now.”

“You…do?”

“You don’t?”

He hadn’t thought it was really Franky’s kind of thing. He opens his mouth to say as much, but Franky’s grin has taken on a distinctly mischievous slant. “You afraid I’ll show you up, Sogeking?”

Usopp snaps his mouth shut again. When he returns with Kabuto and four dozen pellets, Franky’s popped his wrist back into place. He cocks his arm, squinting into the distance. “You see that piece of driftwood out there, ‘bout a mile out?”

Usopp pulls his goggles down and swiftly grabs a pellet from his bag, loading it. It takes him a split second to line up the shot and then fire. Fragments of driftwood and water spray into the air.

“You mean that piece of driftwood?” Usopp asks innocently.

Franky smirks at him. “You think you’re pretty funny, huh?”

“Sometimes.”

“But can you hit a target while moving,” Franky says, nodding to a pack of gulls flying by overhead.

Usopp snorts, loading another pellet into his slingshot, following the arc of the gulls’ movement. “Of course I can hit a moving target—”

Franky shoves him, just as Usopp releases the band, and his shot goes wildly off course, exploding in midair.

“Asshole!” Usopp hollers, punching Franky hard in the arm, and Franky’s laughter rings out, loud and braying.

It’s not their usual routine. But it’s just as fun.

By noon, Franky’s finally out of bullets. Sanji left them sandwiches. Franky pulls two bottles of cola out of his fridge and hands one to Usopp. “Cheers,” Franky says, tapping their bottles together.

Usopp sips slowly. He’s never had cola before. The soda’s cold and syrupy, and his nose stings with the bubbles.

Franky belches. He’s already finished his bottle. “Good inventor, good sniper. You’re like a double threat, bro.”

“Double threat. I like the sound of that.” No one ever thinks of him as a threat.

“Seriously,” Franky says, with a small smile. “I might not be the greatest sniper in the world. But I think you’re pretty damn super, bro.”

Usopp always spends so much time, so much energy, talking himself up. Trying to convince his crew — to convince himself — that he’s strong enough, capable enough. But Franky says it so simply, so certainly, that in that moment, it’s never felt more true.  
  
  
  
  
“I think this is a whole new record for you two,” Sanji remarks, when they stumble into dinner that evening, twenty minutes late.

“Don’t sweat it, bro.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“We’re working on a lot right now. A bunch of cool stuff for Sunny,” Usopp offers by way of explanation.

“What kinda stuff?” Chopper squeaks, nearly falling out of his chair in his excitement.

“It’s a surprise.”

Luffy pouts. “But I wanna know now.”

“You’ll have to wait and see, captain,” Franky says, shooting Usopp a conspiratorial grin.

“I don’t wanna wait.”

“You have to,” Usopp says. “Pass the potatoes.”

“You got it,” Franky says, handing him the bowl.

“Thanks, Dad,” Usopp says and serves himself a huge helping.

The rest of the table has gone abruptly quiet.

“What?” Usopp asks, bewildered.

Robin’s got one eyebrow arched. Luffy is gaping at him.

“You just called Franky dad,” Zoro says.

Usopp laughs. Or tries to. “No, I didn’t.”

“Anyway,” Sanji cuts in. “I hope you all saved room for dessert—”

“You did,” Zoro says flatly. Sanji kicks him right in the shin.

“I didn’t,” Usopp says again. His stomach feels cold, even as his face goes hotter and hotter.

Franky hasn’t said anything at all.

Usopp stands abruptly. “I just forgot,” he says. “I left a bunch of paint out in my workshop downstairs. I gotta clean the brushes before they get all dried out.” It’s not his best excuse but it’s the only thing he can think of in the moment.

“You should hurry,” Nami says, examining her nails intently. “Or else you’ll ruin my budget for the month when you have to buy replacements.”

“Exactly. I’ll grab dinner later. Don’t wait up for me.”

“I’ll save you some pie,” Sanji says, but Usopp’s already pushing the kitchen door open. The night air is cold against his flushed face and he keeps walking. He doesn’t head toward the workshop, though, but toward the stern. If anyone comes looking for him, at least it’ll take a little while for them to find him.

Usopp leans against the railing. He shuts his eyes and forces himself to breathe, in and out, until his chest stops feel so tight and heat finally drains from his face.

There’s a faint prickle along the back of his neck. The deck creaks. Usopp turns and Franky’s on the stairs, watching him.

“Hey,” Usopp says. He can’t look directly at Franky, so instead he looks back out across the dark ocean, the waves churning and foaming in their wake. “I was about to head down to the workshop, but I heard a funny sound coming from the stern. Thought I’d check it out, try to fix it. You go ahead, I’ll be there in a second.”

Franky still hasn’t said anything.

“I didn’t actually call you dad, you know,” Usopp says. “It might have sounded like I did, but actually it was just because you reminded me so much this morning of a man I met back in Loguetown, called Daddy the Sniper—”

“Bro.”

“I’m not lying,” Usopp says, even though he knows he kind of is. He really kind of is. “I’m not lying, I met and dueled this guy who went by—”

“It’s okay,” Franky says quietly, so much quieter than Usopp thought Franky could sound. He’s got that very serious look on his face. The one Usopp almost never sees, and the last time he did, Franky was telling him that Merry was fundamentally broken beyond repair. A rush of terror floods Usopp’s stomach.

“Listen,” Franky’s saying. “I get it. You and me, man, we’re the same in a lot of ways.”

“I’m not—”

“Shit’s tough. My parents abandoned me when I was just a kid too. They left me on an old scrap heap—”

“It’s not the same,” Usopp retorts. “My parents didn’t abandon me. My dad had his reasons. _My_ dad didn’t toss me out in the trash.”

As soon as he says them out loud, Usopp wishes desperately, helplessly, that he could take the words back. It’s the same thing bullies always said about his father when he was a kid, again and again, and it never stopped hurting, just dug itself into him like a splinter that refused to come out.

Usopp often hates himself, but in this moment he’s never hated himself more.

Franky doesn’t even flinch. He just nods. “You wanna be alone. I’ll leave you alone.” He turns to head back down the quarter deck stairs and then pauses. “I ain’t saying he didn’t have reasons,” Franky says. “Just saying s’okay to want to be wanted, y’know.”

He leaves Usopp alone, shaking, as Sunny creaks and sighs all around him.  
  
  
  
  
He wakes to the steady beat of a hammer.

They’re off their routine again. Two days in a row.

Usopp pulls the blankets over his head.

He can’t get out of bed. Can’t go into the kitchen, because he knows Sanji will try and talk to him about last night. Can’t go out on deck and face the rest of his crew yet. Definitely can’t go downstairs and see Franky.

He wants to rewind the clock, all the way back to yesterday morning, when they were having their shooting competition and everything was good and everybody didn’t know what a stupid, pathetic idiot he actually is.

Maybe he can. Maybe, if he just pretends that nothing happened, everyone else will just have to pretend too. Luffy’s got a short memory. Zoro won’t ask questions. Nami and Sanji will let him off the hook if he pushes hard enough. He can distract Chopper by giving him the weapons demonstration he asked for, and he knows Robin’s schedule well enough that he can avoid her pretty easily for the next couple days. And then Franky will have no choice but to go along with the rest of them, and everything will go back to the way it was.

He’s halfway through running dialogue in his head when the memory of Franky’s quiet voice, the look on his face, stops Usopp short.

He could pretend that nothing’s wrong. And he suspects, deep down, that Franky would probably even let him. But it doesn’t change what he said — at dinner, and afterwards. It doesn’t change that he embarrassed himself and then took it out on Franky instead. That Usopp tried to hurt him, after Franky has been such a good friend to him.

He doesn’t want to be that kind of person. And if he doesn’t apologize to Franky, he will be. No matter how much he lies to himself, Usopp will always know the truth.

It’ll be awkward. And shitty. But it’s even shittier, laying in his bunk, listening to the beat of the hammer, wishing he were downstairs with Franky. Shittiest of all is the thought that things might never quite be the same between the two of them ever again.

Usopp doesn’t want to be the reason he loses good things anymore.

The hammer’s stopped. It’s probably around 10:30 in the morning. Franky will be heading to the kitchen for a refueling.

He’s going to get himself out of bed. He’s going to eat his slice of leftover pie for breakfast and compliment Sanji extra hard, and then he’s going to go downstairs and face Franky and make this right.

Usopp takes a deep breath and turns over, to roll out of bed.

Franky is standing right next to his bunk. His face is inches from Usopp’s nose.

“Yo,” Franky says, and then Usopp starts screaming, and then Franky’s screaming too, and there’s the clatter of footsteps down the hall, right before Sanji kicks the door open in a panic.

Several minutes later, Sanji is back in the kitchen and Usopp is on the floor, nursing the new lump on his head. Franky’s sitting next to him, carefully adjusting his nose where Sanji put a dent in it.

“What the hell were we even screaming about,” Franky demands. “You scared me.”

“I scared _you?”_ Usopp splutters.

They stare at each other and then Franky bursts into laughter. He looks so completely ridiculous, with his dented nose and his electric blue hair standing on end, and Usopp realizes he’s laughing too.

“I came up to find you,” Franky says when he finally catches his breath again.

“You sounded like you were getting along okay without me.” Usopp can’t quite help the needy edge in his voice.

Franky shakes his head though. “Nah. Wasn’t the same without my partner.”

“I was about to come downstairs,” Usopp admits. He knots his hands together in his lap. “About last night. I’m so sorry.”

“Been thinkin’ about you this morning. ’Bout some stuff I still wanted to say last night.”

Usopp looks at him anxiously.

“Y’know, after I was dumped on that scrap heap, this old fishman named Tom found me. He took me in, and Iceberg too. That was his workshop under the bridge. He taught me everything I know. Gave me tools, gave me a job. Gave me a home. I never said nothing to him ‘bout it, but…I always kinda saw him as like our dad.

Franky finally snaps his nose back into place. He hums, thoughtful. “Me, though. I always seen myself as more of a big brother type.”

“I’ve never had a big brother,” Usopp says slowly, after a moment.

“Then it’s settled,” Franky says and beams.

And, Usopp realizes with a flicker of hope, that it is.

“So,” Franky says, “from now on, just call me Super Excellent Big Bro.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

Franky gasps, clutching at his heart. “Then at least call me Super Awesome Strong Hyper Radical Big Bro.”

“That’s even longer!” Usopp protests, but Franky’s laughing again and Usopp’s laughing too, right alongside him.


End file.
